


Becoming

by sillythings



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, It's a dark relationship, Power Imbalance, i know this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillythings/pseuds/sillythings
Summary: Aizen reflects upon Momo.





	Becoming

 

At first, Captain Aizen had been surprised how much distress the idea of dispatching Lieutenant Hinamori had caused him. He had molded her to him so perfectly.  He was the sun around which her world revolved. There was no way she would be able to function without him when the time came for him to depart from Soul Society.  As an act of kindness and mercy -- she had earned that much from him -- he would have her killed so she would not need to bear a world without meaning, a world without him.

Aizen had not counted on the fact that he had molded her perfectly to fit _with him_ and that the loss could be felt from both sides.  It was a rare miscalculation on his part, if indeed he could call it a mistake.  He was well aware of the pleasure he took in her company. As her mentor and friend, he shared his books with her, training up her mind and teaching her hands the elegance of calligraphy.  Hinamori possessed a sharp mind and a clever wit. Their discussions of poetry filled many a pleasant afternoon, and Aizen could not but help admire her fine wrist as she stroked her brush on the white paper, making characters that were almost as elegant as his own.

As her captain, he sparred with Hinamori on the training grounds, honing her into a skilled warrior.  Despite her gentle demeanor and slight frame, Hinamori was fierce when she unleashed Tobiume, often laying her larger opponents to waste. Her swordplay was good.  Her kidou was beyond compare, at least if he did not compare it to his.

Hinamori might suffer in comparison to Aizen -- it was his lonely burden to know that no one could compare, but they were not so very different in some ways. The captain and his lieutenant both had a hidden side lurking beneath their kindly demeanors.  To many, Lieutenant Hinamori was quaintly old-fashioned and demure. Undeniably powerful, she still inspired protection and pity in her colleagues and subordinates. Little Momo, such a good girl she was.

Hinamori used people’s perceptions of her, consciously or no, to make them underestimate her.  In battle, she lured the enemy in with her sweet fragility before making the killing blow. It was not unlike his own power of hypnosis in its way, letting people see her for who they thought she was.  The saw the slight frame, the sweet girlish face as tender as a flower petal, and they made their assumption, often to their regret.

To be fair, she _was_ sweet and tender.  Her viciousness arose directly from her loving nature, a delicious, primal contradiction.  There were a very small number who knew her very well, Abarai and Kira, for example, her classmates who had trained and battled with her, they had a better idea that little Momo had a temper, and in the name of justice, she was not afraid to use it.  

When Hinamori perceived an injustice, she was no respecter of rank or persons and lept to the defense of those without defender.  Aizen had to smooth over relations with his fellow captains and various members of the noble clans on more than one occasion after his lieutenant refused a direct order she felt would put her team into danger or told off an arrogant nobleman, but she co-led the squad with a gentle authority that commanded respect as well as the love of her subordinates.

Hinamori had grown into an ideal lieutenant.  And an ideal woman.

She had her flaws, of course.  She loved too deeply to be able to separate herself from those which she held dear.  She would not be able to follow him, even if he so wished it. However, she was willing to break the rules for what she believed.  Aizen thinks that she would probably burn the Seireitei to the ground if she found a cause great enough. He was confident that when the time came to unleash her upon Soul Society for his cause, the destruction would be magnificent.

He thinks he might love her for that.

And that was not a bad thing at all. To have such a powerful desire for her meant he must become powerful enough to overcome that instinct and grow beyond.  And he was so close.

Momo Hinamori was a very good match for the man she thought Sosuke Aizen was, and while she certainly did not know the true Aizen, the man she knew was not altogether an illusion.  To some degree, he was the captain she loved, and he could not deny that he would miss her when the time came.

When Aizen considered his departure from Soul Society, it crossed his mind that perhaps he did not want her to live without _him_.  She had her friends, Abarai and Kira, and the repulsive little prodigy, Hitsugaya.  They would rally, of course, to support her after his betrayal, but she deserved better than that.  He wanted to spare her the degradation of her friends’ pity, and goodness knows, it would be kindness to dispatch Hitsugaya in the process.  As it was now, Momo already had to suffer the moralistic child-captain hovering over her like an overprotective grandmother. He would be practically humping her leg as soon as Aizen was gone.  

Yes, Aizen would allow her the chance to die in glory -- defending the memory of her Captain.  She was a brave, gentle flower straining toward the sun. Aizen would pluck her and allow her to be set above the others, beautiful and loyal in death.  

Still, the instinctual drive that pulled Momo to him was harder to overcome than he thought.  He did not want to be the one to deliver the killing blow, thus the complicated plot to lead to her death.  A difficult challenge meant greater growth, of course, but he was still sometimes surprised that he found Momo to be the one thing he regretted leaving behind.

Because of this regret, he congratulated himself for keeping Gin so close.  Gin had a primary function in the master plan;he was the true threat of death, ever smiling over Aizen’s shoulder.  He was curious as to when and how Gin would make his move to destroy him, knowing that ultimate threat to his life would be necessary for his evolution.  Beyond that, however, Gin was also a useful reminder of what happened when one did not make a break with emotional attachment.

Gin’s own weakness was Rangiku.  She always had been. Gin was a very clever fellow, but in this regard, he was as foolish as most men, unable to overcome this bond of love.  Gin would never be able to destroy Rangiku, and thus, she held him back from true evolution.

Momo would never do that to her captain.  In a way, in her weakness, she was his strength.  As he felt himself stirred to protect her when she was threatened in battle or when genuine affection warmed him when he saw her smiling face waiting for him in the captain’s office, stacks of paperwork and two cups of hot tea on the desk before her, it only made it harder to let her go.  The harder it was to leave her, the stronger he would ultimately become. If he could deny even her, what could he not do?

So whenever Aizen’s gaze lingered a bit too long on the curve of Momo’s neck, watching the silky tendrils of hair escaping her bun and tickling the tender skin of her nape, Gin’s knowing grin would remind Aizen of his higher purpose.  He would overcome them all.

Even so, he could not help but take her into his bed, playing the reluctant suitor, the shy intellectual overcome, to his great shock and dismay, by his sudden passion for his lieutenant.  Momo revelled in the taboo, the forbidden nature of a relationship between captain and subordinate adding a delicious thrill to their romance. In the midst of their couplings, she was far more likely to moan out his title than his name.  

“Captain!” she would sigh, her softness and wet heat clinging to him, urging him forward.  

“Oh, Lieutenant Hinamori,” the captain would breathe into her ear and capture the sweet lobe between his teeth. Aizen would feel her pulse around him, taken over the edge at the sound of such formality on his lips.  Her delight in the power imbalance would finish him off faster than the actual physical delight of their joined bodies.

Other times, though, and there were many other times, she would call his name, quietly and with authority.  Flat on his back, he would gaze up at his lieutenant rising above him, and he would quake with a sensation that felt a little like terror.  Her eyes took on the same glow as when she cast a kidou spell, but there was no incantation uttered, nothing but his name on her lips.

“Sosuke,” she would say solemnly, this young woman with her slim waist and small breasts lit by moonlight, moving slowly and steadily, her heat flush with his.  “What do you want, Sosuke?”

Sometimes he was not quite sure what she was asking him. On a purely animal level, he wanted exactly what she was doing -- her flesh joined with his, his hands and mouth on her skin.  He had no words to answer her, but he met those glowing eyes, seeing her mouth fall open as she drew a shaky breath, feeling her pleasure rise.

Other times it seemed like she was hoping he would speak of some insipid future together, of a home and children.  But, no. No, maybe in the daylight when she called him Captain, admiration caressing the word, she was imagining him as the head of their own family.  This intimacy of his name meant something different to her.

Momo bent down, her breasts brushing his chest, her knees on either side of his hips, keeping the rhythm steady.  She kissed his mouth and looked him in the eye, looking into his soul. There was no admiration in her gaze then. No judgement either.

“Sosuke?” she asked again.

He stared deep into her dark eyes, willing her to understand, imagining how her mind would break if she should realize the truth of him, yet hoping, somewhere in the  lonely darkness of his soul, hoping she might see him for all he was.

“To be free,” he gasped into her mouth, “To come. To become!”  

He was spouting nonsense, but something in those dark, red-lit eyes flickered with comprehension, and he was undone.  Sosuke threw back his head, roaring as the pleasure ripped through him, gripping her tightly, pressing his fingers into the flesh of her hips and buttocks hard enough to bruise.

Momo kissed him again, riding him until his hips stopped bucking beneath her and his hands relaxed their painful grip, moving to gently stroke the soft skin of her thighs and calves.  She quivered beneath his hands.

She slowly slid off to lay beside him, her head on his chest.  He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. All was quiet except for their breathing.  He would miss her. There was no doubt about that.

“I think I understand, Sōsuke,” she said quietly, her hand tracing a pattern on his chest, unconsciously weaving her binding spell -- his heart to hers.

“Do you?” He asked, staring at the ceiling.  He didn’t really think so, but what if she did?  Such understanding would not change any element of his plan.  If anything, it only assured him of his eventual success.

No.  It would not change anything, but later when he was between her thighs again, pressing kisses to hot smooth skin, he looked up to see her dark eyes meet his with a knowing smile before she shut them tight, her mouth contorting with ecstasy.

  
Aizen’s plans remained unchanged, but pain bloomed in his chest when he watched her writhing under his lips and hands, as fragile and ephemeral as the pink blossoms in spring. Momo was so very _becoming_ in the moonlight.


End file.
